Echo
by midnight glade
Summary: King Uther wants to see magic destroyed; but even he can not silence the echoes of the lives he so viscously tore apart. And there are those that still hear the screams...


Right, hey, I know its been a year since I started to write Rising but I'm going back to it (I have the second chapter practically written) but its proving really hard to write and I am so sorry to everyone that has been waiting on that story. I know that's not good enough but it's the truth. Here is me having a go at something really weird lol.

Echo

* * *

At first it was a hum.

Soft and almost silent, hesitant, it thrummed through the air. It was like the first few strums of a instruments strings at the beginning of a concert; the warm up bars of a song. So They ignored it, or didn't hear it, going about Their lives with it playing in the background…notes almost a pleasant tune. Soothing.

But then the speed picked up, and a few more instruments joined in, unable to stay away. Almost as if they had to give their tribute, had to show that they understood. And so that quiet hum was joined by a lower note, a background sound that whispered of something that was only starting to be heard. Soft, but no longer as quiet, the tune swirled through the air, drifting with no where and everywhere to go. And They heard it more this time, perked up Their ears and _frowned_. Or were startled by the sound, dropping something, or jumping in surprise. But They heard it, They heard it and They stopped, even if only for a moment, even if afterwards They went back to whatever They were doing. For a moment, They felt it.

Empowered, more sounds joined in.

A steady beat to keep the pace, stopped it from losing control. A pitter patter in the background that faded in and out, an unmistakeable reference to children footsteps, to their quiet laughter. A higher sound, long notes that seemed soft and hard at the same time, warm and cold.

And suddenly that tune was a symphony, a collection of sounds that grew louder and then quieter, went up and down like the sun in the sky, like green hills that could be climbed…that people could stand proudly on. Instruments played with precision, with eagerness, as if they needed to be heard, wanted to be heard, were supposed to make someone proud. There was no scripted music, and to try and put down exactly what was being played would be impossible. It was wild and instinct and completely indescribable… And the something that had only just begun to be heard was now a little louder.

There was more of a reaction this time, a sharp intake of breath as They heard a little more, recognised the something. And then it was more than just a whisper in the back of minds; it was a embrace and a smile, a frown and a tear.

And then the sound grew louder, growing in confidence, losing its childlike hesitation. It tumbled over itself, rising and rising before it fell and rolled and swirled though the air with a timeless grace. The sound swelled and rippled, but didn't hurt, remaining soft but unbreakable. A contradiction. Hope and sadness. Soft and hard, high and low, loud and silent. Textured like a sigh, a laugh, a sob, the tune continued onwards unflinchingly. Recounting stories, memories, fears…secrets. And they were all heard. They were all heard and they were all understood and they were all remembered. And as clear as day, suddenly the something was laced through every unfaltering note.

Mourning.

And They understood. And They stopped. And They _listened_.

The tune danced through the air, slow but fast, sad but hopeful…a sigh. No longer a hum, no longer a barely heard rhythm, no longer just a collection of sounds.

Some of Them found it unbearable, unable to stand the tune despite it's pleasant sound. They called it _haunting_. They called it too much to bear. But, equally, some would not turn it away, letting the sound flow through them…finding themselves shocked by how it made them smile and cry at the same time. Leaning into the ancient sound like they looked to a mother to guide them. Others found the haunting melody both terrible and beautiful at the same time. It spoke of better times. Told Them stories and hummed with the voices of Their kin…made Them feel like they were _home_.

The tone lamented happier times, of things lost. Things that had been destroyed, hunted, burned.

The very core of the music rang with the fear of the flame. Fire, the notes whispered, fire. And that fear raced across every bar. Muttering of burning and red and amber…of dying surrounded by it. Of dying surrounded by stony faces. And then there was red and amber. And then there was burning. But this was heard… _They _heard it. And it was understood. But the hum was no longer content with what it had grown into. No, it was no longer content at all. Layered with emotion and secrets and _kin _as it was, the tune craved something more…

And They understood. And They stopped. And They listened…

And then They joined in.

Voices weaved through the notes, the bars, the beat, and merged. Old embraced young, death embraced life, and many embraced few. Sad, so painfully sad, the composition became a song.

They were right to say it was haunting, laced with pain and fear and death; made for mourning.

But only They could hear it. Dancing through Their minds and it was only Their mental voices that joined in. Because They knew what would become of them if it was spoken aloud, knew that the outcome would not be good. And so They never uttered a word…some believing that speaking it would never do it justice. But that was not the only reason. See, They too feared the fire. The flame.

But it didn't stop some of them lashing out, anger fuelled by the sad song drumming in the back of their minds. It didn't stop them from feeling a fury that belied Their fear of fire and promising to tear a kingdom to the ground, brick by brick, king by king. It didn't stop them from hating; looking at those who did not hear the song in disgust…because they, in their impartial safety, could never know the agony of listening to the song they had to hear. How could they be so cold? They whispered. How _could _they be so cold?

It didn't stop a sorceress from feeling guilt for indivertibly starting the purge; a guilt that drove her to try to destroy the kingdom that had plagued her people. It didn't lessen a mothers pain from losing her son…longing melody only enhancing the loss. It didn't prevent a young woman from wanting to destroy a kingdom she couldn't remember and tear the heart out of a King she had never met. It didn't stop one Seers feelings of resentment from becoming twisted into hatred and madness. It didn't stop a dragon from channelling all that _pain _and _fear _and _death _into fury…and raining it down on a kingdom.

But, all the same, it didn't stop one warlock from using his gifts to protect and save. It didn't stop the melody in the back of his mind, one he almost couldn't hear, from driving him to stand in the others way. So that magic to be seen as good. So that the past would not be repeated. For magic, for the future, for the world…

For his people.

Then music carried on, sorrowful tune whispering in the minds of those who heard it, whispering things long since past, gone, lost. Things familiar but not but they _should be._

And then the music swelled one last time before it fell and fell and fell.

Instruments fell out of step with others, stopped their playing, as the steady beat continued. It became ignorable, fickle, and then began to slowly melt away. The steady beat then stopped, a few notes now thrumming through the air. Slowly and quietly and softly…

Shh. Listen.

But the voices continued, trying to fill the void left behind as the music died away. And long after it had gone they continued, until eventually they began to forget the words, the notes. Some hung on, but eventually the voices faded too. Stopped. And then they sighed and moved on and waited.

(And then it started as a hum…)

* * *

So, um, yeah, this was supposed to be a song that magical people hear. About all the people that died. Sorry if it was unclear or something. I was going to make a story out of this, I got the idea from a story about the dragon using a 'hum' to make Merlin go crazy XD, but I had no idea how to write it. I tried to make it so that the song stops and starts…maybe at regular intervals? But I purposely made it ambiguous so that you could make up your own minds…since I hadn't quite made up mine. As for the thing with Merlin, I was going to have his magic kinda shield him (since he hasn't really heard the song in the show) as a explanation for why he didn't know about it. But, again, I have no idea how that would work.

This is an explanation for why the magical community foes to such lengths and why they seem to hate Uther beyond reason. I, personally, don't hate the guy…I feel incredibly sorry for him and think he has a legit reason to hate magic. Still, he is a bit of a narrow minded idiot.

Right, I'll shut up now. Thanks for reading. I'm gonna go and write the rest of Rising now…


End file.
